


Audrey

by persimonne, QueenOfCarrotFlowers, Zabeta



Series: Carrot's Dark Stories [13]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Regency, Audrey is a brat, Ben is George Knightly, Birth Control, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Consensual Incest, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/M, Facials, Her brother just wants her to behave, Inspired by Jane Austen's Emma, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Public Sex, Rey is Emma Woodhouse, Sibling Incest, Spanking, joyful incest, only they are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/pseuds/persimonne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/pseuds/QueenOfCarrotFlowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zabeta/pseuds/Zabeta
Summary: Miss Audrey Solo, well-meaning but selfish, meddles in the love lives of her friends - to the constant irritation of her older brother, Mr Fitzbennett Solo. He intends to teach her a lesson, although it remains to be seen what lesson will be learned, and by whom.A dirtyEmmaAU
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Carrot's Dark Stories [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1170431
Comments: 44
Kudos: 172
Collections: Pepsi and Pals' Hardcore Kinktober Challenge, Reylo After Dark





	Audrey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flypaper_brain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/gifts).



> A birthday gift for flypaper_brain! Fly is supportive, talented, kind and true; she is a wonderful person and a great friend 💕
> 
> A while back Persimonne said, "Guys I’ve just watched Emma and I think it would be way more sexy if they were related!" So Persi and Carrots opened a Google Doc and started to write, and then somewhere around June we gave up. But when we realized that our friend's birthday was coming up we knew finishing this would be the perfect gift! Zabeta worked magic and made the whole thing read like dirty Austen, which is exactly what we were going for (she also contributed the epilogue, which really pulls the whole fic together). Fly, we hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it, because we _really_ enjoyed writing it.
> 
> A final note that in this fic Rey and Ben have a 17 year age difference, to reflect the canon age difference between Emma Woodhouse and George Knightley in _Emma_. She's twenty so it's all on the up and up.
> 
> The artwork, based on a shot from the recent _Emma_ film, is by Persimonne.

From time to time, and more often in recent months, Mr Solo—Fitzbennett, not Han—was inclined to wish to spank his little sister. Miss Audrey Solo was a meddlesome, bratty busybody who could not hold her tongue for dear life. Last year, she had tried to play matchmaker for the Tico sisters (she failed); last month she had offended the poor Missus Holdo, always so dear to their late mother; just yesterday she told Fitzbennett—whom she insisted on calling _Ben_ , not that he would ever say he minded, as this is the name he privately called himself—that _“he turned everything to evil”_ and opined that he was prejudiced towards Mr Finn, a friend of hers he had openly admitted he did not understand. Only their father’s delicate health had prevented him from planting himself on the brocade ottoman, pushing little Audrey over his knees, and spanking her arse so hard that sitting down again would become an impossibility. He knew that growing up without a mother and with a father as absent as Han had taken its toll on her, but she needed to learn her place.

He sighed, adjusting the erection now tenting his breeches, and covered it with his book as his father smiled at him from behind the maze of screens he used to protect himself from the “deadly draughts”, as he used to call them. Ben did not know why, but every time he thought about spanking his sister, his cock became impossibly hard. Perhaps it warranted a conversation with the family’s physician.

* * *

Miss Audrey, or Rey, as she liked to call herself, peeked into the sitting room through the crack in the door, as was her deplorably unladylike habit, and watched her brother reading, or pretending to read. Whatever he was doing involved a lounging posture that allowed his spread legs to take up half the drawing room, a book, and a thoughtful kind of expression. And an obvious bulge in the front of his breeches. She found herself _very_ curious about the subject matter of the literary component of his activities. 

And indeed, she asked herself, what better way to find out than go in to inquire? She flounced in, sat down next to him on the sofa as heavily as possible, leaned against him, and sighed. Ben stiffened at her touch, and her heart thrilled at his obvious discomfort.

“Dear brother, I am so bored. Entertain me. What are you reading?”

“Dear _sister,”_ he replied, tilting his head in her direction. “I find it exceedingly curious that you have developed a sudden interest in books. You never cared about the printed word before.”

Rey’s smile never reached her eyes as she suddenly moved to lay a heavy hand on the book in her brother’s lap, making him jump.

“Ahem,” their father harrumphed. “Isn’t it a bit cold, here?”

“I’m not cold,” Ben declared, removing the book and awkwardly crossing his legs, trying to hide what certainly appeared to be a substantial erection. “What about you, dear Audrey?”

“Though I hesitate to contradict you, I would say rather that this room has grown quite hot.” To punctuate her statement she pressed her palm against her bare chest and puffed out a loud sigh. “But shall I go find you a blanket, Father? We would not want you to catch a chill.”

The elder Mr Solo harrumphed again, and slowly stood. “I have another thing I need to do, nature calls you know. I shall bring a blanket back with me when I return. We really should keep one in this room.” Audrey rose to help their father move aside his screens, and brother and sister watched as he made his way across the room and out the door.

The siblings were now alone. Ben attempted to discreetly shift his troublesome bulge, attempting to cover it once more with the tome he was reading, but no subterfuge was sufficient to escape Rey’s avid attention.

“How is your dear friend, Mister Finn?” he asked, deflecting the question that hung on her lips. “I’ve heard he left the army for good, this time.”

Rey's expression softened into a genuine smile. "Dear Mister Finn is doing very well, thank you. He is courting Miss Rose, have you heard?" She watched out of the corner of her eye as the tip of his ear, just visible through his thick, dark hair, pinkened.

“How interesting,” he chided back. “Was not Rose meant to marry Mister Hux? Or did you coerce her refusal of that worthy gentleman, the better to pursue your secret matchmaking agenda?”

Rey opened her mouth, astonished, but no sounds issued thence. Her brother had become decidedly impertinent towards her of late, and she could not tell if she liked his new forcefulness or loathed it. To be sure, she often found herself squirming in response to his behavior, quite uncomfortably, and with lingering effects that oftentimes required her to take the matter in her own hands before sleep would welcome her. 

“I still remember when you forced Miss Connix to refuse Reverend Mitaka’s proposal,” Ben continued. “He was, if I recall correctly, _too short for such a nice young lady.”_

“He _was_ too short for such a nice young lady,” Rey parrotted. “And you still haven’t told me what it is that you are reading.” Before her brother had a chance to respond, she snatched the book off of his lap and hopped away, glancing at the text with a critical eye. “Ooooo, _poetry_ , how fine,” she said mockingly, and began to read out loud the first lines that her eyes touched.

_It leaves a cheek, a rosy hemisphere,_

_On either side, and then directs us..._

“Woahhh!” She cried out, for while she read her brother leapt to his feet, yanked the book from her hands, tossed it to the floor, and was now holding her suspended several inches above the ground, her back securely against his chest.

“You are a most _naughty young lady_ ,” he raged. “Badly done, Audrey.”

His dark eyes and red cheeks over her shoulder did not so much frighten Rey as they excited her, and though she struggled against him she was very certain she did not wish for him to let her go. 

* * *

Mr Fitzbennett Solo did not in fact let her go, pulling her lithe body closer to him with an arm around her waist, the breadth of his palm sufficient to cover her whole abdomen. Convinced that his actions were fueled by the sacred fire of propriety, he did not care about her squirming between his arms. He was not preparing to spank his sister for his own amusement: he would embark upon this course of action for her sake, as a much-needed corrective, to teach her how a woman of her age and breeding was expected to behave in society. She was vain, content in her illiteracy, boastful and arrogant. She was not a proper, educated young lady, but hardly more than a feral child—their mother’s absence in her education leaving an unbridgeable gap. He had been fortunate to have known his mother for almost twenty years before she died. The infant Audrey, at that time, had not yet reached the age of three. Now she was nearly twenty and it was well past time for her to learn how to act like an adult.

Rey’s buttocks bumped against his groin several times, renewing his raging erection, almost as if she were not really trying to escape him, but instead endeavored to secure her punishment as if it were another game for her. This waywardness only served to enrage him further. Ben sat on the sofa, knees spread, bringing her with him so that she landed on his lap, and she rubbed herself all over his hardness in retaliation. His face burning, he felt his heart begin to gallop, the pressure of the blood pounding through his veins making his body tingle.

Ben turned her onto her front and pushed her down, the upper part of her body resting on his spread thighs. His legs were too long for her knees to touch the floor, so she was left scrambling to find purchase with her toes. Ben let her wiggle; he had more important things to worry about. Immobilising both her wrists between index and thumb, he used his right hand to raise the gown of her dress, uncovering a pair of shapely legs encased in white stockings, held up by garters sporting satin bows. As he proceeded, the fine skin of her thighs came into view, and his cock grew even harder. Finally he uncovered her lucious arse, bare and pink and perfect. The sight made him salivate, it was as pleasing and rounded as it had appeared in the most salacious of his dreams. A veritable peach of an arse, just begging for him to spank it.

He caressed both her cheeks with his right palm, his touch heralded by goosebumps and his sister’s quiet moan.

“I should have done this years ago, little sister,” he said, his voice quivering and his heart threatening to fly out of his ribcage. “But it is never too late to learn a lesson, do you not concur?”

“Yes,” she whined from her perch on his knees, making a valiant but unsuccessful attempt to press her hip against his hardness again. “Yes, _please,_ Brother. I have been so naughty. You must teach me a lesson.”

Ben did not stop to consider why her agreement sounded so much like begging before he let his hand fly. His large, dry palm impacted the supple muscle crowning her thighs with a sonorous slap, and his heart skipped a beat as his little sister mewled against the blow, her groin humping his thigh, and the bony portion of her hip bumping against his clothed erection for a second time.

“This hurts me as much as it hurts you, Audrey,” he declared, right before he let his hand fall hard upon her other cheek. “I am doing it for you.”

“For me, yes,” she panted. “Only for me.”

Ben could not help but notice the mocking tone of her words, and the prick of annoyance goaded him to smack her harder. After the third blow, his hand lingered too long on her arse, sliding between her cheeks and grazing one of the most warm and moist places he’d ever touched in his life: Audrey’s quim. The rosy heaven winked at him from beneath the crease between her buttocks and thighs, fuzzy with soft, brown hair and wet with sticky juices, and the sight of it was making his heart gallop as a wild stallion. He had failed to foresee that, in the course of doling out the correction she so badly needed, he would necessarily be trespassing so close to her most intimate places. Her pink, wet labia seemed to mock him from their hiding spot, and he seized the occasion to land a fourth blow against his little sister’s naked arse.

Audrey had maintained a stoic silence up to this point, but his fourth blow, which managed to leave the heel of his hand moist with her juice, was accompanied by a loud cry, and her body shuddered in his lap. She spread her legs further, opening her cunt to the air, and the musky, sweet scent of it spurred him on. He smacked her twice more, sharp hits directly against her lips, which she matched with thrusts against his thigh. Upon the second one she keened, her muscles tensed up, and a gush of liquid stained his trousers and the brocade of the sofa beside him. 

He had never been harder in his life. Hoping that Audrey would fail to notice his flustered and miserable state, Ben tutted and caressed her cheeks gently, enjoying their heat and how they flushed beneath his palm. 

“Such a naughty sister,” Ben murmured, attempting to compose himself. “Have you learned your lesson? Shall I stop?”

“Which lesson?” She answered, the tone of derision still clear beneath her panting.

Ben was preparing to resume her punishment when he heard his father’s voice. Quickly, covering his sister’s arse with her gown, he assisted her to sit next to him on the sofa. If her posterior were planted in the spot of wet she had deposited there moments before, her recalcitrance told him that she deserved no less. He returned his book to his lap, and Audrey’s flustered face did not linger on Mr Solo as he returned to the room, followed by his two valets carrying several blankets and another screen to protect him against draughts. 

“I’m back,” he announced proudly, sitting in his favourite chair and snuggling under a crocheted quilt. “There are blankets for everyone. I would never want you to get a cold.”

* * *

Several hours later—after dinner, and reading aloud to her father, and finally settling into her bed—Rey was awake. She could not sleep even a wink; every time she closed her eyes she remembered the sensation of her brother’s hand against her arse, how she’d wriggled under his punishment until she’d climaxed on his trousers. Had he noticed? She wondered whether anything in his experience or extensive reading might have educated him about the phenomenon. 

As she often did at times like these, she ventured out into the house, clad only in a thin cotton nightgown surmounted by a flannel dressing gown, an acknowledgement of the night’s chill. Her father was long asleep, and the servants would be abed as well. Occasionally a cat would find its way inside the manor and they might sit together on the seat of one of the tall windows that lined the main hall, watching the shadows of the trees and the moon shining bright, fancifully imagining the sun shining on the other side of the world. Tonight, however, it appeared that she was all alone. She padded up one hallway and down another, unerringly avoiding each creaky floorboard as she poked into closets and hid behind window curtains, thinking how fun it would be to jump out and frighten someone should anyone else venture abroad in the middle of the night.

As was usual, nobody did, so once she had finished amusing herself Rey made her way back towards her own bedroom. She was brought to a halt, however, as she walked by her brother’s bedroom; she was certain that she heard him say her name, although the sound was muted somewhat through the thick wood of the door.

Curious, she considered knocking on his door and asking if all was well, but then she heard her name again, followed by a deep moan, and she had the uncharacteristically unselfish thought that it was perhaps best not to interrupt him. Quite characteristically, though, she allowed her curiosity to send her toward his door on tiptoe, where, crouched low, she set one wide eye against the keyhole. If the door was locked, Ben had removed the key, and it took only a moment for her to comprehend what she saw there, illuminated by the light of his fire and a well-positioned lamp that flickered in the wall sconce just above where he sat.

Her dear older brother was seated at his writing desk, which was set against the wall between two windows, directly opposite the door through which Rey snooped. He hadn’t yet changed from his day clothes, but still wore his trousers and shirt and even his jacket. His chair was turned sideways, as though he had pushed himself away from the desk in order to give himself more room to move, and he was slumped quite low in the chair, his hips perched close to the edge of the seat. He needed the space—his right elbow was thrust out from his body, while in his hand he gripped something long and thick that thrust up from his lap. He squeezed the top of the thing, and then brought his fist down slowly, revealing something shiny and pink as he did so. He moaned her name again—there was no denying the _Audrey_ that escaped his lips, almost a sob, as though he were crying about her. _Her_.

The identity of the object under the firm stroke of her brother’s hand became clear all of a sudden, and with Rey’s realization came a bolt of heat low in her belly. It was his cock, it must be—the very same cock that would tent his trousers, that she would study from the corner of her eye hoping he would not notice, that he would try and fail to cover with books, or the newspaper, or any other item he might have to hand ready to drape over his lap. Ben was stroking his cock, and he was saying her name, and there was no way that she could look away, at least not until his caresses reached their inevitable conclusion. Having watched the dogs she had some idea of the workings of male physiology but she was excited to have a chance to witness it with her own eyes. She told herself that it hardly mattered that the male in question was her brother, sobbing her name as he polluted himself, no less.

Lowering herself to her knees but always keeping her eye to the keyhole, Rey tugged the hems of her gowns up to the top of her thighs and thrust her right hand into the warmth between her legs. Her fingers passed the soft curls to slide through the slick of her lips and pinch the hooded bundle that nestled there like a pea in a very small pod. With every stroke her brother made of his cock, Rey swept between her lips and circled her clitoris; when he sped up, she sped up; when he blessed her name with his lips, she whispered his, ever careful not to make too much noise. If he found her spying on him there was no telling what he might do. He might spank her again, or force her mouth on him, or slip his cock in where she desperately wanted it. But he might also be gripped by real fury, and while she was wont to throw caution to the wind under many circumstances, she was just frightened enough of her brother not to tempt fate that night.

She could tell when Ben reached his climax because he shouted and slammed his left hand on the surface of his desk, sending his pen flying and knocking the inkwell over. She watched the dark contents spill over a stack of paper. At the same time he spilled as well, a gush of white spurting out of him and coating his hand and arm, followed by several smaller spurts that joined the flow down his hand. Rey watched, entranced and on the razor’s edge of her own pleasure. When he squeezed the head of his cock, encouraging out one last bead of spend, he whispered her name again, and her own climax overtook her, forcing her to bite her hand to keep from crying out as waves of pleasure radiated out into her limbs. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and she collapsed onto the floor, unable to hold herself upright.

Her blood froze when she heard movement on the other side of the door, and Ben’s voice called out, “Hello? Is someone there?” Her own bedroom was far down the hall, but one of the tall windows was just across the hall behind her, and she had just enough time to scurry on her hands and knees and throw herself behind the curtain before the door opened. She dared not peek, but she could picture Ben glancing first one way and then the other. Perhaps he would look across at the window, and she held her breath and willed him not to investigate. Still and silent behind the drapery, her mind raced. Being found like this would be humiliating to both of them, certainly. She wondered if his hand was clean. She wondered how it would taste if she were to clean it with her tongue.

Ben did not investigate. After a long, tense moment of silence the bedroom door closed, followed by the soft click of the lock and footsteps returning into the room. Rey waited several more minutes before she crept back down the hall to her own room. It was with a sense of relief that she slipped back between the covers of her bed, but the warmth and safety did little to calm her. It was hours later—close to dawn, in fact—before she had calmed down enough to fall into a fitful sleep, filled with dreams of her brother whispering her name.

* * *

A few days later, Ben barged into his younger sister’s chamber in a frenzy of righteous fury. If questioned, he would have attributed his ferocity to yet another of her social gaffes, but a more honest perlustration of the passion gripping him would necessarily have revealed its source to be the way she had slithered under his skin, rendering him as distracted as a silly adolescent. 

He was maddened further by the picture of innocence that greeted him. Audrey, seated in a pool of sunshine, taking advantage of the morning light to affix a yellow ribbon to her second best bonnet. She glanced up from her sewing with the mildest of expressions.

“Hello again, dear brother,” she said, her eyes already back on her work. “What an unlooked for pleasure, to see you here already, so soon after breakfast. Do you not usually wait until the afternoon to interrupt my precious solitude with your complaints?”

Ben clenched his jaw. “I have interrupted my own plans this morning for the sake of duty, dear sister. Mister Hux wrote me that you offended the memory of his mother, last week, telling everyone that she was a dim-witted servant. Such malicious and unkind words are so far beyond the pale of decency that I can hardly countenance this rumor, and yet I am quite unfortunately compelled to ask you, is that true?”

Rey sprang from her chair, sewing tumbling forgotten to the carpet. Chin tilted in unbecoming defiance toward her brother, she declared, “It is indeed true that she was a servant. I know not if she was also dim-witted, but your friend Hux surely is not the sharpest tool in the shed, and he was her only son. Draw your own conclusions.”

Ben puffed his cheeks at this extraordinary reply, the blood vessels that showed above the white folds of his stock standing out from his jaw as they filled with blood. “Hux’s mother was a good woman, her only fault was to be poor. You will not talk like that about people less privileged than you.”

“Will I not?” she said calmly, declining the tilt of her head to an angle more insolent and—he would hardly have thought it possible—even more infuriating. “And yet it seems that I already have.”

“You.” Ben’s heartbeat sounded loud in his ears, and his fists hurt from how tightly he held them, and yet he was shocked and a little pleased at how quiet he was able to keep his voice. “You are irritating. You speak ill of other people without thinking and you meddle with other people’s relationships without considering the consequences. And I know why.” He took a step closer, taking pleasure in the way her eyes widened at his approach. “I have deduced the reason. You do this because you know that no man would willingly put up with you and your childish antics!”

Ben was not able to keep his composure after all—he ended his oration with a shout that echoed in the corners of the room.

It appeared that he had struck his sister’s nerve. She was shaking—vibrating as she did in her seat in the carriage when they crossed that particularly rocky patch of the road into town. Her face had gone white—all of it except the very apples of her cheeks, which were crimson. Ben suspected that if he were to touch them they would be heated and damp. The thought of his little sister crying made his cock leap in his trousers, and that betrayal by his own body made him angry, too. Audrey took two steps towards him and stuck her finger right in his face.

“You are _so cruel!_ ” She yelled, teeth bared in a feral grimace “You don’t even _try_ to understand me, all you see in me is fault. You think you know me, but I know you too, _brother_.” She twisted the word in her lips as though it were a curse, which both excited and unnerved Ben. “You like so much to find fault with me that sometimes I wonder if it is why you remain celibate at your advanced age!”

“Yes,” he gulped. “You are the cause of my celibacy! Righting your wrongs and correcting your faults allows no time to actually seek a wife!” 

They were so close that he could see how much his sister’s chest was trembling, her small, firm breasts pushing against the hard edge of her stays as they slipped above the ruffled neckline of her dress, emphasizing the shape of the round mounds. He thought about covering those breasts, as well as her insolent and all-too-perfect face, with his spend. He would first fill her mouth with his cock—only then could he _finally_ enjoy the silence and the calm he deserved. 

Predictably, his gaze moved on to her mouth, still half-open in outrage at his harsh words. But soon, as if somehow she knew precisely the effect her next movement would have on him, she bit her lower lip, and promptly soothed it with the tip of her pink, ill-mannered tongue. His enthralled eyes found it impossible not to follow the movement.

Ben closed his eyes before he could commit irreversible damage by kissing her right on her lips. Spanking her was one thing, fantasizing about her in that disgusting way of his was another thing, masturbating furiously while recalling her juices gushing out of her quim after the well-deserved punishment he had inflicted on her was another thing altogether, but _kissing?_ Joining his lips to those rosy crescents, feeling her sharp teeth against his tongue? It was out of the question. There would be no way to return to the satisfying and comfortable life he then enjoyed if he were to kiss her. 

So busy was he steeling himself against the temptation before him, he did not perceive that his sister, ever the more proactive of the Solo siblings, had made her own decision to close the space between them. He felt the lips he had imagined peck his while his eyes were still closed. 

“You are so much more pleasant when your mouth is shut, dear brother,” she whispered against his lips, “or otherwise occupied.”

“So are you, dear Audrey.” The words slipped out, and Ben’s head swam. Her lips were _right there_ , her breath hot and sweet against him. But his resolution held, and he refrained from closing the narrow space between them. Instead of kissing her, he kept talking. “You should speak less, and occupy your mouth otherwise more.”

Rey took a step back, and as she did her tongue darted out again, wetting her lips. They glistened as the corners of her mouth quirked up into one of her exasperating smiles. When she spoke her voice had taken on a husky and deep tone that seemed to vibrate in his groin.

“Do you think so, dear brother? I have some ideas for how I might do that.” 

“You do?” Ben asked, blood draining out of his head to other locations. 

His sister stepped forward and he closed his eyes in expectation of another kiss. He opened them when instead she caressed his clothed erection, her small hand roaming over the crotch of his breeches. She knelt before him and his voice was humiliatingly high-pitched as he choked out, “Ah, you do.”

Ben, not trusting himself to speak further, reached back to grasp the edge of Audrey’s escritoire and held on to it for dear life. It was a delicate and ladylike piece of furniture, unlike its current owner, and he prayed he would not need to depend upon it to hold him up. He screwed his eyes shut once more against the onslaught, while that little tease started opening his trousers, her small, calloused hands swiftly freeing his erection from its confines.

He expected her to say something, one of her inane quips, but she only released a quiet gasp as her fingertips danced lightly up the underside of his erection, from the base up to the tip. She gasped again and he felt her brush against his slit; he could imagine her finger coming away glistening with the fluid that always leaked thence, threatening to leave a spot on the front of his trousers when she was near. Perhaps she would put her finger in her mouth, and suck the salty fluid off. His fevered mind clung to the vision—how soft and hot her mouth would be, how sweet.

He was so caught up in his imaginings he did not notice the gentle rustling of her movements, so he was shocked when his vision came to life and something soft and hot made contact with the head of his cock. It was her tongue, and he gripped the escritoire more tightly and screwed up his face while his sister gasped again and lapped at him. He could not bear to open his eyes, to make this thing real, but he allowed his imagination to make a fair copy against the dark of his eyelids: there she was, on her knees in front of him, her breasts peeking over the bosom of her dress, cheeks pink, mouth open and willing, her impertinent tongue pink and perfect on his cock.

“Audrey!” he cried, as she swirled her tongue over his frenulum, barely keeping himself from coming in her mouth and fainting right there. He had intended it as a reprimand, though he did not move away, and the sound that issued from him was a plea.

Keeping his eyes shut had been an excellent idea: the image of his little sister sucking his cock like a common harlot would have been enough not only to make him come so hastily that he would embarrass himself in front of her, but he thought it might part his dear soul from his poor body for good. He had been so confident a few days ago while he punished her. How had he fallen so far from that mature and purposeful role, to behave now like a small, inexperienced lad, grappling with his first roll in the hay.

His sister, in contrast, was remarkably calm and composed as she sucked him off almost reverently, as if she intended to prove something. She took him to the back of her throat and hummed, then choked and pulled away when he thrust spontaneously. His face flamed even hotter and he mumbled an apology, finally opening his eyes to look down at her, only to see her waving away his concern.

“All is well, dear brother,” she murmured with something approaching affection in her voice. “I rather liked it.” Then she put her hot, wet mouth around his head again and sucked it like a purloined lump of sugar while she played his foreskin up and down his cock. This time he could not tear his eyes away, and so witnessed what he could not have imagined, how tears formed under her eyelashes and rolled down her flushed cheeks, how her perfect breasts heaved almost out of the top of her dress, how her left hand slipped through the slit in her skirts where her pockets would be tied, and how she moaned around him just a moment later.

He was lost, on the brink of a precipice, all because of his little sister. His loud, boisterous, unrefined little sister, now playing him like a fiddle, her rosy lips lusciously caressing his hardness, maddening him further than she ever had before, and in more ways than he had imagined possible. 

If this were a battle, she would be the one winning, between the two.

It was that thought that sent the younger Mr Solo over the edge of the delicious precipice upon which he had been balancing. In a last fit of clarity, before he could fill his sister’s throat with spend, he tugged her away from his cock by the looping buns at the back of her head, coming all over her chin, her lips, her throat, making her gasp as the warm, sticky liquid coated her golden skin. Audrey blinked, looking at him, her mouth agape. 

Perhaps he might be declared the victor of this battle after all. 

* * *

After that fateful afternoon, the battle between Fitzbennett and Audrey escalated into a full-fledged war, a war fought on the fields of pleasure. Rey grew even bolder, often cornering her brother while their beloved but oblivious father was still in the same room, or in spaces where she knew some member of the household might enter at any time. Ben, after furiously blushing despite his age, loved to push back, reveled in the opportunity to give her a taste of her own medicine multiple times a day.

She delighted in finding new ways to gift him with the sight of her body, whether a long look at her shapely calves covered by white stockings when they were keeping their father company, or a peek at her naked buttocks while she warmed herself before the fire, or the glimpse of a nipple whilst they sat in company at the dinner table, everyone around them too distracted by food to notice the crimson cast of Ben’s prominent ears. When she finally showed him her quim, opening her legs while lounging on an armchair—their father snoring in his corner and her petticoat forgotten in a drawer—he knelt in front of her, as a penitent kneels to pray for the forgiveness of Jesus Christ himself. 

Showing her a patience he had never previously exercised for her benefit, he pushed her thighs further apart, separating the seams of her crotchless drawers and exposing her wet quim to his perusal. She gulped when his fingertips came in contact with her heated flesh, and her memory ran to that night in the corridor, to him seeking pleasure with her name on his lips. When he kissed her _there,_ his tongue dancing on her clitoris, she surrendered, ceding the field and forfeiting the battle, if only for that night.

“Call me Rey,” she murmured as her older brother ate her like she was the most delectable dessert.

The following month became a whirlwind of secret meetings, languid stares, and whispered delights. He broke the laces of her stays so often, in his eagerness to free her breasts from constriction, that the housekeeper, Mrs Kalonia, had had to ask for more pin money to fund replacements. She paid him back in kind, staining the fronts of all of his trousers with her juices. Their necks bloomed with purplish stains; their hands softened with constant, secret clasping; their days began and ended in bliss. Rey had never been happier.

One day, after three weeks of drinking an herbal tisane that Miss Tico swore would act as a contraceptive, Rey surprised her brother as he strolled in the woods with his friend Mr Armitage Hux. Ben had mentioned his desire to spend an afternoon with his friend, so Rey devised a plan. It was, if she did say so herself, one of the cleverest she had yet put into action.

For as it happened, Miss Rose Tico had suffered a recent disappointment in love. Mr Finn, on whom she had set her hopes, had demonstrated his own preference for the company and affections of their acquaintance Mr Dameron. It seemed that only patience had been required to achieve the success of her original plan of bringing together her dearest friend and the dearest friend of her brother. Armed with Ben’s information regarding the gentlemen’s walk, Rey sought out Miss Rose and enjoined her to assemble a picnic for four.

The two young ladies surprised Mr Solo and Mr Hux in a clearing, where they had taken care to arrange the picnic and their lovely figures in a most natural and appealing tableau. Rey, wonder of wonders, humbly begged Mr Hux’s pardon for insulting the memory of his dearly departed mother. Mr Hux graciously accepted her apology, and both gentlemen gladly accepted the invitation to join the ladies at their repast. As they sat there, Ben pulled his sister into his lap to taunt her, but she refused to be flustered, and instead responded in kind.

“Brother, I’m cold!” she cried. “Rose, could you please give me the knitted quilt we brought with us?”

Rose complied happily before returning her attention to Mr Hux and the sandwich they were sharing, and Rey draped the warm blanket over her lap, and that of her brother’s beneath her. They shared cups of tea after the meal, and sipped from a silver flask of brandy Mr Hux offered with a wink, as they took turns reading aloud from the poetry of Donne. When it was Ben’s turn to read, Rey stealthily drew up the hem of her dress until her warm, damp quim rubbed against the rough wool of his trousers, making him jolt. He bore up under the torture as stoically as a Spartan, not missing as much as an iamb, until it was her turn. 

And then, just as Rey opened her mouth to begin reading “A Valediction: Of my Name in the Window,” he unsheathed his hard member, poking her wet labia with its tip, his foreskin rubbing maddenly against her. She coughed delicately, using it as an excuse to reach for a sip of her tea and grind against him until he breached her. She took his cock inside herself completely, leaving them both breathless. It was the first time they had tried that (Dear reader, be assured it was not the last.), and she looked with anxiety toward their companions, certain that the sensation of the earth shaking beneath her must be sensible to them as well, but Mr Hux and Miss Rose had eyes only for each other. Rey squeezed her muscles, causing her brother to sigh. She was going to win this battle, today.

“I could go on for hours, darling brother,” she whispered as Rose drew a set of playing cards from her bag. 

“I’m counting on that, my dearest sister,” Ben answered back, his ears red from the alcohol, and from her little game. 

* * *

Back at the house, Mr Solo made a rare visit to his study. Mrs Kalonia had requested his attention to some trifling details of the household budget, items he really couldn’t imagine having an opinion about—Audrey’s underthings and increased work for the laundress. He sighed quite rudely as she spoke, and found himself wondering ever so briefly what his wife would have made of the housekeeper’s concern about the young people’s quarreling, for which she blamed their being so much in company with each other.

“Really, Missus Kalonia, I hardly think the matter is worth disarranging yourself. Fitzbennett and Audrey are still children. Let them play a while longer. They simply like to fool around, as brother and sister do, and who are we to put an end to their fun?” 

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Mr Fitzbennett reads early in the story is John Donne's _[Elegy XIX](http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/elegy19.php)_. Here is the one they read at the picnic, _[A Valediction: Of my Name in the Window](http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/valname.php)_. I guess Ben really likes Donne.
> 
> We are all on Twitter: @persimonne, @elderreylo, @flowerofcarrots. Come say hi!


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